


After Effects

by reclusiveq



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Depression, Gen, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 09:58:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1506302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reclusiveq/pseuds/reclusiveq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has to find himself in the aftermath of CA:TWS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Effects

The soldier dragged the man up to the shore and stared down at him for what felt like an eternity. Steve Rogers was still alive. The soldier had been given a mission to kill this man and had failed. He never failed, so what was different about Rogers? What had held him back from dealing the killing shot? Why hadn’t he let him drown?

These were questions the soldier couldn’t answer. Even now, staring down at him, the soldier couldn’t strike Rogers again.

_I’m with you… to the end of the line._

Those words felt achingly familiar to the soldier. His metal fist clenched at his side. “I knew you,” he whispered. But how?

The soldier had questions now, questions he both wanted answered and didn’t want answered. He was afraid of the answers, though that fear was foreign to him. He took half a step forward, reaching towards Rogers, then stopped. He knew this man, but he didn’t know how he knew. And he wouldn’t let fear keep him from finding out.

He was a soldier and he needed a mission. So, without a leader, he gave himself a mission. He would find out what he could about this James Buchanan Barnes… then the soldier and Rogers would be on equal footing again.

~~~  
James jerked awake, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. He stared at the ceiling, vaguely aware that his metal arm had broken something. Probably the nightstand… again. He took his breaths slowly, then sat up, looking at the mess of wood on the floor. At least it wasn’t the wall this time. He’d had to move the bed away from the wall to avoid putting another hole in it.

Next to the broken nightstand, a handgun lay on the floor. He stared at it for a long time, starting to reach for it. It took a great deal of effort to stop himself. The nightmares were getting worse, but he couldn’t bring himself to end his own life. The nightmares… he couldn’t tell what was memory and what was fear. He had a name, he’d seen it himself, but that was all he had. The rest of it…

He turned from the gun and stood up. There were some scraps from last night’s dinner still on the table. He’d dug them out of the trash of a nearby restaurant, needing to eat something. Finishing them off, his stomach growled, demanding more. The noise made him angry at himself for being so weak, and he slammed his fists down on the table in frustration, breaking it in half.

Steve had called him Bucky, but James recoiled at the thought of going by that name. Whatever Steve thought, James wasn’t Bucky. Not anymore. Bucky was dead. Bucky had falling off a train and died in the snow. James wasn’t the Winter Soldier either. He was someone different… someone new… A man without a family, a home, friends, or a mission.

Shaking his head, he kicked at the broken table. Hell, everything else around here was broken too. The table just matched now. Even the bed wasn’t much of a bed, but James couldn’t expect much else, considering the place was abandoned.

He picked up his jacket and ball cap, pulling the brim low over his eyes. There was a homeless shelter nearby. They should be serving breakfast soon. James would go for a short run, then head over to get something a little better to eat.

He slipped out through the back door, taking a couple of back streets before stepping out into the open. He felt vulnerable out here and pulled his cap lower, glancing around to make sure no one was paying undue attention to him. He set off at a jog at first, then sped up to a run. He was mindful of his speed. Normal people didn’t run as fast as he did, but still it helped clear his head of the remnants of the nightmares.

Breakfast was a quiet affair. James pocketed a roll for later, when no one was looking, then left again. The museum wouldn’t be open yet, nor the library. Instead, James went to the only other place that he felt might give him some answers.

Strictly speaking, the old SHIELD headquarters was off-limits. It had only been about a month since Captain America had destroyed the ships, and both SHIELD and HYDRA with them. The entrances were heavily guarded by the military, but there were other ways in. Most of the important files and machinery - the stuff that hadn’t been destroyed anyway - had been carted off, so once past the entrance, security was almost non-existent. It certainly didn’t take James that long to reach what was left of the roof. He could see most of the city from here and had found it was a good place to come and think.

Staring over the edge, he wondered why he kept living. He should be dead. It would be better for everyone. He had no purpose anymore. He’d read up about himself, or rather the man he used to be. They said he was a good man. So why did he have a feeling of guilt? It wasn’t from the deeds he’d done as the Winter Soldier. He had this feeling of guilt specifically when he thought about Steve Rogers.

He stepped over to the edge of the building and closed his eyes. It wouldn’t take much to jump. Would he die, or would he survive this fall too? There was no snow to break his fall this time.

"Bucky?"

James opened his eyes and slowly turned, hiding the surprise he felt at seeing Steve himself standing a few yards away. There was emotion in Steve’s eyes that James couldn’t place. He clenched his fists, his first instinct to attack. He fought it down. How could he be friends with this man? What the hell did Steve even see in James?

"Bucky…" Steve repeated. He wasn’t wearing his costume or his shield this time, but it still felt eerily familiar. Steve had his hand half stretched towards Bucky, as if wanting to touch him.

"I… am not… Bucky…"

"Ye-" Steve started, but James cut him off, his lips curling slightly.

"Bucky is dead. He was a good man. I am not."

"But you saved me," Steve protested. "You know we’re friends."

James sneered a bit. “Then you know nothing.”

"Buck…"

"How could he be friends with you!? How could he be anything compared to you? You never needed him as much as he needed you." James was yelling. not caring what guards overheard. Now that he was facing Steve again, he knew he could do it.

"No, Bucky. That’s… that’s not true." Steve took a step forward.

"Well don’t worry. I won’t make you end it. I’ll do it myself." With that, James let himself fall over the edge, closing his eyes.

He opened them again when he felt arms around him. Steve was holding him close as they fell. “What are you doing?” James yelled. “You’ll die.”

"Then we’ll go together. I told you before. I’m with you. To the end of the line."


End file.
